


Respect & Responsibility

by LadyFrandrews



Series: Fathom [7]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Neil Hargrove's Parenting skills are a bit not good, Neil's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28101552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFrandrews/pseuds/LadyFrandrews
Summary: Neil's POV in the Fathom series.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Fathom [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1242257
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Respect & Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> As we know, canonically, Neil does use certain words to describe Billy...that is a part of this...just so y'all are aware and may need to proceed with caution.
> 
> Set after Susan's & Karen's pieces. (One day I might give y'all a numbered order to these things but as of right now, it is what it is.)

“Where is he?” he asked her for the third time. 

  
She didn’t back down. She hadn’t in a while.

  
“Not here,” she told him once more. 

  
“Dammit Susan, where is my boy?”

  
He knew that look in her eyes. Knew what it meant. She knew and wouldn’t tell him until he calmed down. 

  
He took a few breaths and then took a few steps back to sit on the bed that occupied most of Billy’s room. 

  
“I’m sorry for the temper. Do you know where Billy is?”

  
He knows he’s still tense, his tone is telling. But she steps closer to him and puts her hands on her hips—she’s serious about what she’s about to say.

  
“You will promise me not to overreact when I tell you the truth. You will promise me or I will not speak of this again.”

  
He nodded, “Yes, dear.”

  
He knew before she uttered the words that he was gone. He’d been threatening to run away, go back home since they’d moved here. 

  
“No, I need to hear you say the words, Neil.”

  
He exhales sharply through his nose trying to quell the anger that just burst into him. He feels his back and shoulders tense up, feels his hands ball into fists.   
He’s never hit, Susan. He’s not about to start now just because his son decided to run away. The boy’s eighteen now, he can’t exactly stop him. Not legally. 

  
“I promise,” he gets out a little less harsh than he expected. 

  
She gives him a small nod.

  
“He’s happy,” she starts.

  
He’s not stupid. He’s noticed a change in Billy. Still quick to anger, that temper doesn’t just go away. But he’s noticed that he’s been more involved with Maxine the last few months than previously. 

  
He’d hear the quick snippets of nearly whispered phone calls— _“yeah, babe.” Or “I’ll see what I can do, maybe twenty.” “I can’t, not, today’s not good.” “Princess, you’re unbelievable.”_

  
The boy’s smitten with whoever he talked with on the phone. In love. 

  
And then he wasn’t. That anger that had gone a little less had returned with a vengeance and to hell with whoever was in his path.

  
“He, they, _they_ ’re headed to California.”

  
“They?” 

  
He’s heard the rumors of some Harrington boy leaving town. He’s never met that boy’s parents but if gossip’s to be believed they left a lot to be desired as parental figures. The only thing they were good for was providing money and a roof over their boy’s head. 

  
“Yes. Billy, and, and his boy-, his, his boyfriend, Steve.”

  
He meets her gaze. She’s waiting for him to burst. Waiting for him to throw something. Hit something. Possibly shove her out of his way in his path of fury. 

  
He wants to. God does he want to throw something, hit something, destroy what’s left of this bedroom. Break Billy’s dresser. Smash the mirror. Wants to tear the posters down and rip them to shreds. Wants to burn whatever he’s left behind. 

  
But he can’t. 

  
Billy’s gone. 

  
But he’s happy.

  
“Is, is he good to him? Does, does this Steve treat him right?”

  
Susan gasps. He knows it’s not what she expected him to say. To be truthful he’s kind of shocked himself.

  
He’s always called the boy a faggot. He doesn’t understand why that’s a problem, it’s what the boy is, right?

  
“They’re good for each other,” she starts. She’s eyeing him, making sure he’s not going to burst into a spontaneous fit of rage-fueled destruction. Billy’s always been his soft spot. His weakness. 

  
He knows that she knows that about him. 

  
“I love him, Neil. I love him as if he were my own. You, you will not, you will not break him anymore. I won’t, I won’t let you.”

  
He knows she’s serious. He can see the fire in her eyes. It’s one of the things he loves about her. Her quiet, fiery, passion for the things she loves. 

  
“So, he just decided to skip town with his, with, with his boyfriend, this, this Steve kid, and what? What do they plan to do to survive? Do they have a plan? Do they, do they know what they’re doing?”

  
Again, he’s surprised her by his questions. 

  
“I don’t know. He, he left before anyone came home.”

  
He doesn’t call her on the blatant lie that is. She’s _protecting_ him. She’s being a mother. Keeping him _safe_ from the _monster_. Safe from _him_. 

  
He can’t fault her for that.

  
The front door opening and closing break their moment. Maxine. 

  
“Does she know?” He asks.

  
Susan just shrugs, “I don’t, I don’t know but, but I’ll go speak with her. You, you take a moment to collect yourself before you show your presence to us. I’ll go heat up dinner and catch Max up.”

  
He nods. Knows he has nothing to say. Not adequately anyway. 

  
She steps forward into his space and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead before leaving him to his thoughts. 

  
He listens as she walks through the house and out to the living room where he can hear Max moving around, shuffling her backpack and skateboard. Hears the two ladies of his life greet each other. He tunes them out once he hears Susan tell Max to sit down, they have to talk. 

  
He climbs to his feet and moves to close the bedroom door, keeping himself inside Billy’s bedroom. 

  
He looks at the things Billy left behind. The posters he was adamant about coming with him from California. Neil hates them, but he couldn’t tell him no. He’s glad to see that his mother’s beads went with him. Can’t fault the boy for holding onto broken promises. That notion of ‘one day’ lingers in the back of one’s mind. That hope that fades into desperation before fueling anger without even realizing it’s done so. 

  
He looks to the small closet. Good, the boy took his books and music. He always had a knack for collecting both. They’re good outlets. 

  
Neil knows he’s been harder on Billy than most would realize. But when you were told that boys don’t cry and sure as hell don’t have in-depth conversations about their feelings, well, what’s one to do with their pre-pubescent boy turned teenager dealing with the aftermath of his mother making it clear that she wants neither him nor his father? 

  
Those tears he watched fall, he let them. For a time. Until he didn’t. Because at fourteen, boys shouldn’t be sobbing into their pillows crying for a mother who had long since given up coming back. At first, it was every night. Then every other night. Then it trickled down to once a week, and then maybe twice a month. But something happened at the end of Billy’s junior high years, right before he started high school. It went back to every night almost. 

  
He watched as Billy’s knuckles would become more scraped and bruised because his anger was growing. His _learned_ behavior was being broadcast for all to see. Neil didn’t know how to correct that behavior. Do as I say not as I do hadn’t worked for him and his old man, it sure as hell wasn’t going to work on him and his son. 

  
He’s sure they had moments, brief and sparing, but moments where they’d address the topics of his mother, his fights, his anger. 

  
He sits back down on the edge of Billy’s bed, which is unmade and Neil takes it as the middle finger gesture it surely is meant to be. 

  
He knows that his girls will think he’s washing his hands of Billy now that he’s gone, but how can he wallow in the fact that the boy’s mother and now their son both _chose_ to leave him. _Both_ without a _goodbye_. 

  
The bedroom door bursting open breaks him out of his thoughts and he just looks at Maxine, at Max. He sees fury in her gaze—the same as her mother. 

  
“YOU DID THIS! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” She shouts at him. Finger-pointing, face turning red, and he lets her. 

  
She’s not wrong. 

  
He knows his own parenting skills have a lot to be desired. He could have done so much more. So much differently. 

  
He doesn’t say anything as she carries on, shouting more and more about how mean he was to Billy. How much he hurt him—physically, mentally, and emotionally.   
He notices her tears before he begins to nod in agreement with her words. 

  
She shouts that she hates him. He doesn’t blame her. She turns with one last gaze of fury before going to her room, slamming her door. 

  
“Neil?” He hears Susan a while later. 

  
He’s not sure how long he sat there, but his hands are fisted into the mess of blankets and sheets at the foot of the bed. His knuckles nearly locked in place from the pressure of his hold. 

  
“Are you alright?”

  
He shakes his head just once. But she’s there, putting her arms around him and offering words of soothing and comfort. Words he doesn’t deserve. Not from anyone about Billy. 

  
He allows her to pull him up on his feet and lead him to their bedroom. She gently nudges him to lie down. She takes his shoes off for him, and then tucks him in, work clothes and all. 

  
He hadn’t eaten dinner. He smelt it, some frozen lasagna or something similar. 

  
She tells him to sleep and she’ll check on him in a little bit. 

  
When he wakes up, it’s hours later, his alarm lets him know it’s 2:35 am. He can feel Susan asleep beside him. 

  
He gets up and does his best to not disturb her. 

  
He makes his way back to Billy’s room and looks around it once more. 

  
There are pictures missing that were once taped to his mirror, the remnants of tape residue linger in small squares and rectangles. The shoebox he kept under his bed is gone too. Neil never looked inside of it, mostly because he was afraid of what he’d find. He knew Billy kept girlie nudes in his bottom drawer of his dresser, but he also knew of his preference for guys. He imagines he kept something to fill that need somewhere. 

  
He notices a scrap of white or off-white sticking out from behind his nightstand. He reaches out for it, slowly, pulling it out from behind. It’s a sweater. 

  
A nice sweater. The tag alone tells him it’s expensive. 

  
This isn’t Billy’s. This is someone else’s. 

  
He drops it. Immediately recognizing it as belonging to Steve. The boyfriend. 

  
Billy had had him in his room. Undressed in some capacity if a sweater was discarded behind a nightstand. And left behind. 

  
He’s not sure what possessed him to do it, but he picks up the sweater and folds it, places it on the dresser.

  
He sits down on the edge of the bed and stares at it some more. 

  
This is proof that Billy is happy. And he wouldn’t just ask anyone to accompany him to California. Back home. 

  
He hopes Susan made him promise to at least call or send a postcard when they made it. After all, he has a sweater that needs to be returned to its rightful owner. 

-x-x-x-x-

  
It’s not until he’s at work and having his lunch break that one of his co-workers joins him at his table—without asking. 

  
He’s mid-chew when he sees the look on the man’s face and he knows what’s coming. Knows it’s coming because the whispers have been all over town now—that Harrington kid skipped town with another boy. 

  
“ _Your_ boy’s not the one that skipped town with that Harrington kid, is he?”

  
In his mind, he’s stood up and punched the man in the face for even suggesting such a thing. 

  
But he can’t do that, one, because it’s frowned upon in company policy, and two, because he’d be lying if he said anything not confirming the truth. 

  
“What’s your point if he is?” Neil asks the other man. 

  
It’s not what he wants to say. What he wants to say is that his son’s not a faggot. They’re just friends. But even now, he knows that’s a lie. 

  
He can tell the other man’s uncomfortable now. _Good_.

  
You shouldn’t just ask people certain kinds of questions about private matters. 

  
“That makes _you_ the father of a queer, then.”

  
“Again, what’s your point if he is?”

  
In his mind, he’s now shoved the man on the floor and is kicking him. What happened to respect for other people?

  
“Isn’t that your responsibility? You know, being his father and all?”

  
Neil sees red. He sees anger. He sees fury. He sees his blinding rage. And for once it’s not directed at the boy’s mother, or Billy himself. It’s at someone intending to harm Billy’s reputation. Neil’s reputation. 

  
“I taught him _everything_ I know about _respect_ and _responsibility_. What have _you_ taught your _son_? The one I saw in the backseat of a cop car for the second time this week? It’s only Thursday, Norman.”

  
He doesn’t say anything else just continues to eat. The lasagna tastes better the next day anyway. 

  
He watches the other man cast his gaze downwards and as his entire head turns red in shame. Good.

  
He can feel the other eyes on him from other coworkers who overheard or rather _eavesdropped_ , on their conversation. After all, Hawkins is kind of small-town and gossip isn’t just for the birds. Neil’s learned the men of this place chatter just as much, if not more, than their counterparts. 

  
“Anyone else want to comment on my parenting? My son’s well-being? I have about ten minutes left of lunch.”

  
The gazes divert away from him and the silence becomes tense and awkward. Stifling for them. A moment of clarity for Neil. 

  
“He’s happy if you’re wondering.” He's not sure why he states that. But a few of the others shift in their seats, still uncomfortable in the tense silence of the breakroom. 

  
Billy is his. His boy. His son. 

  
Billy _is_ happy. That’s what’s important. 

_"Congratulations, Mr. Hargrove! It's a beautiful, healthy, baby boy!" The nurse blurts out before a small, wailing bundle is placed into his arms._

_Neil tunes out the nurses as they clean up his wife, his entire focus is now on the little blue-eyed baby boy in his arms._

_He's never understood what people talked about, a parent's love. This unyielding desire to do anything and everything in your power to protect and nurture the tiny human being in your arms. He'd kill anyone who so much as harmed a hair on his head._

_No one is paying him any attention, so no one notices the few tears that fall down his cheeks as he looks upon the face of the life he helped create._

_"Hello, my boy, hello, William," he says softly._

_Damn anyone that tells him the small smile given immediately after is gas._

**Author's Note:**

> I knew that from the beginning of this little ditty of mine, I wanted to tackle Neil's POV at some point. 
> 
> Given the variety of families shown in the show, it only made sense to show a dad like Neil. One that wasn't kind and involved like Lucas', or deadbeats like Jonathan & Will's and Dustin's dads are. A dad who cares about his family, but may go about it the toxic route (dude's a prime example of toxic masculinity, but that wasn't a thing back then so nobody knew any better). Control is a big thing. This is my take on what happens when he loses that control. 
> 
> Neil Hargrove is a porchdick. We get it. But at the same time, I wanted to explore his head. I wanted to explore the dynamic of Neil and Billy, especially dealing with the aftermath of the former Mrs. Hargrove (or if they were even married?) just up and leaving. Leaving a man with anger issues (that probably came from his own upbringing and let's be real, no way he dodged the Vietnam draft and that one was a doozy for lots of folks) to raise a kid on his own. Life f*cks you up sometimes and when you have underlying anger issues, well, this is what I came up with. He controlled Billy for so long that everything he knew to be his normal is skewed when Billy makes the choice to leave on his own.
> 
> I wanted to give the monster qualities of humanity. After all, we have long since learned the worst monsters are usually other human beings. 
> 
> As a fandom, we've made him more than his few moments of screen time are, but those were enough to spawn the A+ Parenting tag with his name. I grew up with men similar to Neil. I've seen what happens to those men when they learn to break their toxic cycles and when they don't. I've seen what happens when their children try to break those toxic cycles, and when they don't. 
> 
> I really could go on and on, but I won't. 
> 
> If you want to let me know what you think, please feel free to do so! Love it? Hate it? Have any other POV's you'd like to see?


End file.
